


War Hymn of the North

by Valyria_55



Category: ATEEZ (Band), ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Attempt at historical fic, Because who am I kidding I don't know what I'm doing, Game of Thrones-esque, Ice Powers, Inspired by MAMA 2020, Inspired by Viking, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Rebellion Story, Revenge, Slow Build, Winter Wonderland, Winter lanscape, lots of fur coats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valyria_55/pseuds/Valyria_55
Summary: The kingdom of Eira was long gone, exiled into the mountains, the royal family disgraced. The Valkryians and Blagdenians have ruled in joint power for decades, keeping the Eirans in the mountains but also unable to completely crush the remaining followers of the old crown, constantly battling skirmishes at the borders.Until the birth of a child, destined to greatness in the winter wilderness.His name is Yeosang, Kang Yeosang.Or: The Kims are Blagdenians, Oneus are Valkyrians, and the Kangs are Eirans. Other characters will be introduced in notes when suitable. This is what I got after that one GoT themed stage during the MAMAs. This is Ateez's portion.Updates Wednesdays(or if delayed... Thursday)
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung & Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've finally decided to post something on archive of our own after lurking on the site for years (hello fellow lurkers, welcome). Ateez is one of my favorite groups: I discovered them myself, not through other people, so they always hold a place in my heart. The MAMA performance of 2020 broke me, so I had to make something for it. I want to make a series, and I wanted to start with Ateez first (and hope my determination would last long enough :')). They live in the north, and I will do my best to describe northern landscapes. Enjoy the introduction!

_The Great King of the North had been ill for a period of time._

_The kingdom of Eira was bubbling in tension. There had been talk of the heir of the crown was incompetent. Perhaps that was not the case, and it was merely the king was too powerful, and everyone paled in comparison. Even so, people were not satisfied with the heir’s powers. The call of war was near, and the people in the palace were also aware._

_“Your Majesty. There is no stopping the people.” His advisor whispered as another messenger left the room, delivering news of dividing loyalties. The king looked frail on the bed, but his eyes were determined._

_“What happens after our best efforts, cannot be helped.” He rasped as he coughed weakly. The advisor knelt at the bed, ready to follow every order despite the heavy feeling in his heart. The king leaned forward slightly and held his gaze. “If all comes to war, you are allowed to think for yourself. Take your family and run. Hide your identity.” The advisor’s breath hitched as he shook his head vigorously._

_“Your Majesty, I could not possibly-”_

_“No.” The advisor’s mouth snapped shut. “You will not be spared if you do not yield. You have served me well. Go.” The advisor bit his lip as he stared at the king. “This is an order.”_

_“Your… wish is my command, your majesty.” He dipped his head. “I hope it does not come to that.” The king watched as his trusty advisor left the room. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, covered in crystal hexagons decorated with snowflake motifs. He knew his time was limited, the end very near. His lungs were weakening, and it was harder to breathe with each passing day. He knew the end of his life would bring on a tidal wave of war and civil unrest, and his heart went out to his people and son, who would suffer great consequences because of him._

_“I’m sorry, my son.” He whispered. “Please save as many as you can.”  
_

* * *

__  
The death of the king was like a lit match dropped upon dried twigs.

_The news ignited every possibility of conflict, and the hearts of the scheming rebels were lit aflame. News of the imperial army splitting reached the new king as soon as he touched his father’s crown. The residents of the northern kingdom had separated into supporters of the crown and supporters of the rebels. Everywhere, debates and fights raged in the streets, right down to the very last peasant. The new reign had just begun, but impending war was apparent in the air._

_No sooner than a month later did the rebellion begin. The rebels in the imperial army, led by the general himself, rallied and attacked the palace. Those who were loyal fought back, and residents who supported the crown joined the army. Battles raged all over Abigor, the capitol descending into pure chaos. The civil war was deadly, destroying towns and cities as it wreaked through the land. The new king wasn’t strong enough to demand complete loyalty, like everyone predicted, but those who were loyal were dead loyal. For a few months, they were evenly matched, with victories and defeats on both sides. The royal family of Kangs compensated the slight disadvantage in numbers in manpower with their inherent abilities, and the snowy landscape rose to their command._

_Then the Blagdenians arrived._

_No one predicted the arrival of seafarers by the shoor, and the Kangs weren’t aware of it until it was too late. By then, the rebels had struck deal with the seafarers: land and shared power for support. This time, the abilities of the Kangs were no longer enough. The seafarers proved to be powerful, disciplined soldiers, and with their aid, they crushed the imperial supporters’ forces, leaving nothing behind. The imbalance of power was devastating, and soon, the new king and his followers found themselves escaping into the mountains. The palace was stormed and burned to the ground, and the new king could only watch helplessly as the rooms and objects he so loved: his father's throne, the room where his father passed away, his childhood bedroom, burn to the ground. It was a bloody pursuit, and the royal family barely got away, forced to step on the dead bodies of devout followers. The coldest part of the mountains were not habitable in the least, and it was only because it was no longer possible to pursue the royal family did the rebels give up the chase, leaving those loyal to the crown to die of the cold. They took the land and divided it into two, giving the Blagdenians half. The kingdom was renamed Blagden, and the other half was named Valkyria, by the rebels. The Blagdenians were given the throne, and the Valkyrians seized the position of advisor, who held equal power._

_The kingdom of Eira and the royal Kang family was officially overturned._

_The remaining supporters of Eira barely pulled through. The new king was still the ruler, and the royal family remained in power, but the original residents of the capitol were not so lucky. The cold and limited land that wasn’t frozen over was a deadly force, and people were suffering. The royal family had to use their abilities to work the landscape in their favor, shaping the ice and snow with every ounce of their power. The glaciers were carved out, the snowy plateaus cleared, at a high price. Members of the family were weakened, and many died of overexertion, including the sister of the king. She died a frail, exhausted woman, with the king and the remaining Kangs by her side. She was encased in an elaborately carved ice coffin, with her favorite flowers carved in ice. The funeral was as fancy as the small, battered population of remaining Eirans. Many followed her, and it was only after a year did the deaths cease. By then, the King was already ill. Many of his close family had died in the reconstruction for the people, and the stress and grief finally got to him. Every attempt to get the people together to fight for the capitol again ended in failure. The king died in despair, despondent and disgraced. Even on his last breath, he cursed the Valkyrians for their betrayal and treason. He cursed them along with the Blagdenians, who had taken away his home. The next king inherited the problems, but was unable to solve any, as the deadly cold of the mountain winters constantly ate away at the inhabitants, taking away precious lives. Even so, he constantly pushed for expansion of the borders, raging battles against the Valkyrian guards. Kang family members were routinely brought to the border to launch avalanches, ending in demolished towns and human casualties, which incited even more conflict and violence between the Eirans and the Valkyrians. For decades, the Eirans remained in exile, left to fend for themselves against the cold. People of the older generation waited for a miracle, yearning to return to the capitol they so loved._

_And so it begins._


	2. Young Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere north ward, far far away from the capitol, far away from the descendants of the seafarers, far away from the original rebels, lies the cold barren mountains, covered in ice all year round. Among the snowy peaks resides the Eirans, wielders of ice. They are the fallen royals, but with time, they will rise again.

A snowflake slowly fluttered from the cloudy gray sky, its delicate hexagonal spikes twirling through the air like a wind mobile. A pair of hands reached up and cupped the small icy particle, their paleness rivaling the frosty blue. The snowflake stopped its descent and floated gently above soft palms, bouncing and springing with the dainty flurry of finger movements like those of a puppeteer.

“Young master, it is time for your classes.” A voice called out. The snowflake broke away from the puppeteer’s control and fluttered to the ground, joining its brethren atop piles of snow. 

“Coming!” With a sigh and a light brush over the shoulder to push away the dangling icy blond strands, Yeosang turned around and faced his childhood nanny, who stood in a distance with a thick fox fur shawl over her simple light blue dress. Snow shimmered on the shawl as it clung to the fur like powdered sugar. They too floated in midair and leaped off the garment in a tiny shower. His nanny looked away from his eyes, and Yeosang frowned. It had always been like this. He did miss those days his nanny would just call him Sangie. It felt more natural and comfortable that way. He looked back at the snow covered peak in the distance, its snowy caps calling to something deep inside him which he could not put into words.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He murmured. His nanny followed his gaze and glanced at the mountains.

“It is, young master.” She replied dutifully as she held up a pale blue coat trimmed with white fur. Rabbit, his mind supplied. He took the coat from her outstretched hand and pulled it over his wool robe of the same color, running his finger down the fluffy edge. He reached behind his neck and pulled his long hair out of his collar, letting it flow down his back in smooth tresses. His nanny looked at him expectantly, her feet already pointed toward the path that led back to the castle. However, he wasn’t done yet.

“Why does Father forbid us to go past the peak?” He asked, even though he already knew what she would say. It was like a ritual, asking every few days and hearing the same answer. It was a little disappointing, but it was calming as well. Unlike the cruel winters that brought unpredictable snowstorms, it was unsurprising.

“It is not safe to go there.” She said patiently, her eyes clearly showing her weariness with the question. “Your father doesn’t want anything to happen to you.” His nanny came up to him and wound an arm over his shoulder. “Now come. The teacher will not be happy if you are late.”

“Aunt Seyong is always grumpy.” He whispered. His nanny gave him a wry smile. 

“I know, which is why you should go. Don’t worry, young master. One day, you shall be more powerful than us all.” Yeosang returned her smile with an uncertain one. More powerful than Aunt Seyong? It seemed unlikely. How could he, a mere ten year old who liked to stand outside in the snowy forest, ever be as powerful as the teacher of the clan? It was outrageous. He treaded lightly on the cobblestones laid in the snow, which were a stark contrast with its darkness and the nearby snow. His boots crunched through the frost covering them, making a refreshing crackle each time he took a step. In the distance, through the spaces between the trees, he saw a few men and women already warming up. Chunks of snow rose and fell, changing shape as it flew through the air. His nanny chuckled beside him.

“It seems that you are already late.” She said softly as she guided him to the wooden door at the end of the trail. It was the backdoor of the castle, an unassuming piece of wood partially covered by winter pines that covered the secret passage that only a few knew of. It was the royal escape, for times of danger, and it was one of the most hidden. Yeosang was a regular user, scurrying down its dark, narrow halls as he tried to escape the heavy atmosphere of the castle and its inhabitants. His nanny found him hiding behind the armor at the beginning of the passage when he was younger, and he made her swear she wouldn’t tell. So far, his secret was still safe. The woman opened the door as gently as she could and ushered him in, closing it swiftly behind her. The two of them made their way down the dark halls, hastening their steps.

“I will put in a few words for you, young master.” She whispered as they rounded the final corner. 

“Thank you.” He replied as he pushed the door open. It led to the storage room, where piles of dried goods and culinary tools laid strewn about.Pots and pans were hung on the ways, alongside wooden ladles and turners. Barrels of dried fish sat against the wall in the corner, covered with a wooden lid. As they tiptoed past the dried berries, Yeosang grabbed a handful and handed his nanny half. They snacked on the dark red orbs as they made way to the training room. He shoved the remaining three into his pocket and opened the door. It swung open, and there stood, in her dark blue robe, Aunt Seyong. Her hair was braided back to reveal her forehead, the braids framing her face and trailing down her shoulders. She did not look pleased.

“You are late, young master.” She chastised as she walked forward, her strides wide and strong as she came before him. With a quick grab, she gathered all of his hair and roughly braided it in a simple three strand braid. After she was finished, she curled it into a bun on the back of his head and stepped back. His nanny dipped her head.

“I’m sorry. I was delaying him for a bit there.” She supplied the excuse smoothly. Aunt Seyong glanced at her, her eyes narrowing. Even so, she let it slide and looked down upon Yeosang, her sharp, hawk-like eyes pinning him in place. 

“Very well. Ahjoon, you have done well. You are dismissed.” Ahjoon bowed and left. Yeosang chewed on his lip as his aunt led him to a table. On it was a bowl of water. 

“Freeze it.” She commanded. Yeosang glanced at her and hovered his hand above the bowl. Slowly but surely, frost began to creep up the brass, like vines climbing a wall. He smiled at his handiwork. The sight of his powers working never grew old. 

“Faster.” She ordered again. Yeosang nodded obediently and raised his other hand, but before he could reach the bowl, it was slapped aside. He turned to look at his teacher, only to be glared at.

“You shouldn’t need two hands oto freeze it faster. Do it with one.” She admonished. Yeosang looked back at the bowl, which was slowly turning opaque as it became ice. He forced more of his power out, biting his lip as he watched the frosty blue burst out in sharp spikes from the frozen part under the water surface, marring the perfectly smooth surface of the ice. They attacked the water like claws, branching out aggressively in thin veins as the water rapidly froze over, no longer clear. Yeosang’s hand fell to his side. The surface was rough and jagged, the spikes sticking out all over. Aunt Seyong tutted disapprovingly and with a wave of her hand, melted the ice and reduced it back into water. Yeosang gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. 

“Repeat. But this time, the surface should be smooth. We will practice until it is. The surface of the ice must always be smooth.” She commanded. 

_But you made me ruin the smooth surface by telling me to speed up._ Yeosang complained in his head as he hovered a hand over the surface again. The frost immediately crept back up the sides, and he clenched his fingers. They curled prettily over one another, like locks of hair being braided. 

“Focus.” His aunt said coldly. He pouted and resumed freezing the water, this time faster because his powers were waking up. The layer of frozen water rose smoothly from the bottom, this time like hundreds of tiny sprouts popping out of the earth. He looked up at his teacher, who seemed mildly satisfied, but he knew that look. Sure enough, the bowl of ice was reduced back into water.

“Not fast enough.” She scolded. 

“Yes auntie.” Yeosang glared at the bowl. If he was really so powerful as they said, why did he have to work so hard? If only he could just freeze up the water by staring at it. Surely Aunt Seyong would stop turning the ice into water then? Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. His aunt raised an eyebrow.

“What are you waiting for?” She asked, her arms crossed over her chest. He sighed.

“Nothing, auntie.” He replied, as he raised his hand once more.

* * *

After control training it was time for history lessons. It was very bland, as all history classes are. Yeosang stared at the light-colored hair of his history teacher as he wondered why he must be so aggressive all the time. Uncle Sejoon was always shouting when he talked about history, and he was very adamant about one thing in particular.

“The Valkyrians are cunning, devious snakes! They are not to be trusted under any circumstances, and will always be our enemy!” He yelled emphatically as his wooden pointer clacked against the board. Yeosanf blinked wearily as he raised an eyebrow at the desecrated Valkyrian symbol of intertwined antlers.

“Have you ever met a Valkyrian?” He asked, knowing full well his uncle had never been on the battlefield. Uncle Sejoon turned around and glared at him, his eyes filled with disdain.

“No, I have not, and I never will. I would not tolerate a Valkyrian in my vicinity!” He huffed and picked up the textbook once more. “Now, turn to the next page, and we will discuss the Great King.” Yeosang snorted under his breath and looked down on the map, where the entire northern kingdom was divided into three. There were the antlers for the north western parts of the land, and a serpent head in front of a criss-crossed pair of axes for the south eastern parts, the land of the Blagdenians. On the border layer the capitol, Abigor, a small blot painted purple and black. He wondered what the landscape looked like there. His relatives always talked of the legends of the capitol, even though they had never been there. The oldest uncle talked about the tales his father passed on to him, how there was never a shortage of cloth and food, and how the weather was much nicer. Yeosang wondered what that even felt like. True, the cold didn’t affect him as much, but he would like to see a world where not everything was covered in snow always every single day of the year. His uncle went on to talk about the great accomplishments of the powerful king, but Yeosang’s mind wandered. He had seldom met anyone outside of the castle since he was born, much less over the borders. The one place he sometimes went to secretly was the Delkos River, which was quite close to the Valkyrian border. It was a calm place, and only a small village was nearby. They were one of the major fur traders, and they provided the Eiran kingdom warmth to battle against the cold. What were Valkyrians like in real life? Surely they were not as vicious as his uncle claimed them to be? Yeosang couldn’t imagine people being that terrible. How did one get about being so mean? Wouldn’t people just hate them and isolate them? He got grounded for being slightly impolite. Did all Valkyrians get grounded for life then?

“Young master!” He snapped back in surprise. His uncle had his hands over his hips in annoyance as he glared at him. “Focus on your studies!” Yeosang looked down and realized his teacher had pushed the page over with his stick. A portrait of the Great King was shown, and a family tree below him. It was separated into three branches. “Now tell me, what are the abilities of the branch of the first son?”

“Oh, uh…” First son? Yeosang’s mind whirled. Okay, not ice moving. That he was sure, but which one of the two was he? Did he possess the ability to shape and further crystalize ice? Or did he have the ability to produce ice? “Ice production?” He guessed. His uncle huffed begrudgingly and turned back to the board.

“You are correct. Now, please focus on the lesson. Great things are expected of you, young master, and you have to know your lineage to know your abilities.” He said as he pointed at the first son. “Your father is a descendent of the first son, which was the heir of the Great King. His mother descended from the second son, who could move ice at his will. Your mother, Lady Kang, was a master of shaping and crystalizing ice.” His uncle pressed his palm against the table and lifted it up. Where there once was nothing was a small pillar of unshaped, crude ice. “In due time, you can do all three. You will be one of the strongest of our clan.” Yeosang stared at the small pile of ice and reached out, covering it with his hand. He felt the ice underneath move at his will, consolidating into a neater, harder pillar. He removed his hand and admired the perfectly hexagonal ice block. His uncle nodded in approval. 

“You will be unstoppable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, first chapter! Yeosang has appeared, and I picture him with the blond mullet, but with slightly longer strands in the back. If your bias is Yeosang, leave a comment ;) (I love Yeosang he's an angel) Leave a comment too if your bias is someone else. I would love to chat with fellow Atinys!


	3. The siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang goes to relax after his classes. There is a place he always goes, as well as person he always finds there.

When lessons were over, Yeosang ambled down the halls, picking at his braided bun, which he hated. Why did Aunt Seyong always find it necessary to tie his hair completely up into his head? He liked it when they flapped around his face and over his back. He glanced at the rows of ice spike emblems hanging on the walls as he made way towards the stables. The Kangs were gifted with the snow, and they paid it back by honoring the most beautiful form of water: snowflakes. The emblem of the Eirans was one hexagonal snowflake, with intricate spikes and hollowed out cavities framed with intricate little swirls. Yeosang always thought they would look absolutely stunning if they had some color. Pure silver white was always such a boring sight. 

He passed by the kitchen, just in time for the cook to see him and push a freshly baked pastry into his hand. He thanked her and turned the corner. As he neared the open air stable, the temperature began to drop. Cold made normal people shiver and pull their coats tighter, but not him. He relished it, letting his powers frost his hands. A layer of fur-like ice covered his palms where the pastry was pressed upon, webs of frost spreading from the hottest spot outward as it chased the steam. He flicked his wrist upwards, making sure the crumbs didn’t get into the fur lining at the end of his wrists. The laundress would not be happy if the pristine white fur got dusted with specks of flaky pastry or stained with jam. He needed to keep the pastry at least a little warm and not ice cold, at least until he reached his destination. It would be a few more hours before his father wanted to see him, so he had a good amount of time. The entrance to the stable was a simple wooden door, held together with a few iron frames. He gently slid the bar out of its slot and pushed the door open. Inside the stable, unsurprisingly, stood three horses, their tails swishing two and fro. The white one perked up when he entered. Yeosang grinned at the pony as he went over and patted its fur. 

“Where is your sister?” He asked it, knowing well where she was. “You want to go find her?” The pony neighed and shook its head. He took the saddle and pad and settled them nicely on its back. He checked the stirrups and reached for the bridle. He gently pushed it into the pony’s mouth, and then the crown piece. He carefully buckled the throat latch strap and mounted the horse. He gripped the reins and dug his heels into the stirrups, giving the pony a quick tug.

“Go, Eilia.” His pony started trotting, and as they headed out of the stables, Yeosang steered it out the backgate. The guard grinned at him as he opened the gate, dipping his head as Eilia trotted past.

“Young master.” He greeted him respectfully. Yeosang smiled back as he leaned his head back, glancing at the guard while being careful not to fall off the saddle. 

“Hello to you, too!” With a slight tug, Eilia picked up speed, and they galloped down the snowy path, the hooves clopping onto the snow and compacting it into ice. He always took the path closer to the forest rather than the one that ran through the town surrounding the castle. It was always more tranquil, and safer, per his father’s words. They flew past snow covered trees, the leaves and branches dusted with powdered white. It was snowing slightly, and snowflakes settled onto Eilia’s long fur, only to be tumbled off with the pony’s movements. The air was crisp, and with each gust of wind brought on a new wave of refreshing chilliness to the nose. The path in the forest was frequently used for its anonymity, and it lived up to its name. They were riding for a short while, and there hadn’t been a single person besides them, except for the occasional moose, which Yeosang knew to leave alone for both his horse’s and his own sake. Those gigantic antlers weren’t made to be messed with. He turned when a fork in the road appeared, and switched to a larger path. It was wide and the snow heavily compacte, as it was the main pathway to the borders, where sparse little villages were settled. One in particular was close to his destination. Arwaa was one of Eira’s most important villages, as it was the major producer of fur. The cold made it essential for one to have fur garments, and failing to do so might lead to lethal consequences. The village of Arwaa made the best fur coats, from the general rabbit to the rare and exorbitant lynx. In fact, it was established that they could pay taxes with fur products by the royal family. Yeosang rode on for a while and glanced to the side. Sure enough, a river ran beside the road, the grass on the bank covered in frost. He smiled and continued down the road. Just a bit further. 

“This is it.” He pulled on the reins and Eilia slowly came to a stop. He dismounted the pony and looked around. In the distance, tied to a tree, was a black pony, its tail swishing about as it patiently waited for its owner. Yeosang led his own pony over to its side, and the black pony immediately nuzzled Eilia with its nose. He tied the reins to the tree right beside them and walked down to the bank. Just as he expected, he saw the one person he was looking for. 

“Arin!” The girl standing by the river looked up. She smirked and waited for him to get closer. His sister was someone he hoped he was in a way. Her hair was a shade darker than his, despite still being snowy blonde, and it hung down her back in a messy braid, half undone. Yeosang suspected she had torn out the pins from her bun and just rode her pony with her braid flying in the wind, letting little tendrils come loose. She was wearing the same robe as he was, but she had a red fox fur coat draped over her shoulders. 

“Hey, brother.” She stood at his eye level and put her hands on her hips. “You finished your lessons?” 

“Yes.” He turned around. “Mind if you help me take out the bun? You know I hate it.” His sister scoffed, and in a minute, her fingers were carefully dissolving the ice pins that held the bun together. The braid fell down his back, still nice and neat. 

“You know, you should wear your hair in a braid.” Arin remarked as she pulled back. Yeosang turned and gave her an exasperated sigh. 

“I hate it when my hair is tied up in any way. You know that.”

“But it looked nice.” Her fingers were back on the braid, and Yeosang felt his hair getting pulled apart slightly. He knew the braid was still tied, so what was she doing? Her fingers came to his shoulders, and he was turned around. Arin pulled a few strands out and let them fall by the side of his face. “See? It’s still a braid, but this looks so much nicer. Less uptight and stern, and more fluffy and romantic.” Yeosang raised a brow.

“I can’t see myself, Arin.” He reminded her. Arin’s brows scrunched in confusion before realizing that yes, as much as he was supposedly able to do, he couldn’t look at himself without a mirror. She pulled him over to the river, where a little diverging fork led to a small pond. Yeosang looked down at the water surface, and he hummed in appreciation. Arin had managed to make the braid wider and more airy, as well as letting a few strands loose. It did look rather romantic, like the girls he saw from the windows on the outer walls sometimes, or when they visited villages, which wasn’t very often. 

“Isn’t it nice? You look nicer with braids than I do.” With a flourish, Arin tore the piece of cord holding the ends of her braid loose, and her long curly locks tumbled apart, shiny and rippling with light as she moved. Yeosang followed the flow of hair with wistful eyes. She resembled their mother so much the phantom pain in his heart ached.

“Your braids always look nice.” He protested, but Arin shook her head and ran her fingers through the lush tresses. 

“Braids just remind me of how I would get married off.” She rolled her eyes and spun around a few times like a dancer. Her hair flew out in a white fan. “I always had to be proper, be polite, be ladylike… blah blah blah. I don’t want to be ladylike. I want to be free, but I know it’s not going to last.” She stopped and looked at Yeosang directly in the eyes. “So let me enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Father wouldn’t-”

“Oh no, no, no, Sangie.” She held a finger to his lips. “It is decided. It always is. It’s tradition. Perhaps when you are king you can change it, but not now.” Arin always was mature for her age, and Yeosang wished he was that mature. Even so, she was fierce, like the north wind. Her eyes were always sharp, and she always hid knives under her dresses. “Anyway, do you want to make ice angels?” She picked up a small hunk of snow and crushed it slightly in between her palms. Her fingers closed around the midsection, and the ice turned pliant between her hands, flowing out from her grasp and forming the angel’s waist. With another quick swipe, the shape of the angel’s skirt was lined out, a nice bell-shape. Her fingers were like magic as they ran down the surface of the snow, solidifying the snow into ice while creating elegant embossed patterns that resembled some of the prettier window panes in the castle. Yeosang picked up his snow and started sculpting it, following his sister’s movements as the ice bent and curled at his will. The hourglass morphed into a larger bottom section and a marrow upper section, and then a smaller hourglass was made to be the angel’s head. He glanced at his sister’s work, sighing when he realized his was much more crude and rough. Arin grinned as she took another two pinches of snow and pressed it into the back of her now highly decorated ice angel. With a single flutter of her fingers, the newly added snow spiraled outwards and curled beautifully to form the wings. They were wispy and light, more negative space than ice. 

“How are you always so much better at this than I am?” He grumbled as he traced his fingers down his ice angel, attempting to create pretty patterns that looked like they could be his sister’s, if she was generous enough. Arin hummed and started making a little pedestal for her work.

“I had more years to practice.” She said as she set her angel on the small hexagonal pillar with a flat surface. “You’ll get there, and before you do, I get to tease you about it.” Yeosang huffed and placed his clearly inferior ice angel next to his sister’s. The two angels watched over the Delkos River, their expressions serene and at peace. With a start, he remembered the pastry and groaned. It must be frozen solid by now. He fished it out of his pocket and unwrapped it from its handkerchief. Sure enough, it was no longer hot. However, it was still flaky and not a solid hunk of flour and sugar. He presented it to his sister, who laughed.

“You got the cook to give you one of her amazing jam-filled croissants?” She asked as she eagerly pulled it into half. “See, you are pretty enough to let anyone give you anything!”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He countered as he brought the other half up to his mouth. The jam graced his tongue with its tartness, and it blended well with the slightly sweetened flaky exterior so well. Arin’s face glowed as she wolfed it down. There was nothing better than a delicious little treat in the snow. Arin brushed the crumbs off her hand and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the river.

“Let’s take a walk.” She said as she stepped on the water. The river wasn’t exactly fast flowing, and as her feet touched the water surface, it solidified into a piece of ice for her to step on. Yeosang followed her and let his powers loose. They traipsed down the river, enjoying the winter ambience as they passed frozen overhanging branches. Wherever they saw fit, they made little ice ornaments and placed them on the trees like it was Christmas. They were almost back to their angel site when a distant neigh caught Yeosang’s attention. He grinned. Sure enough, in a few moments, another horse popped out from behind the trees. A boy with ashy silver hair was on the saddle.

“Wooyoung.” Yeosang called out to him. The boy smiled and dismounted. The fur coat on him nearly swallowed his frame.

“Hey, Saangie!” Wooyoung gasped when he saw the two ice angels standing serenely on the hexagonal pedestal. “These are so pretty!” His fingers gently touched the body of Yeosang’s angel, and the pad of his fingers turned red in a few seconds. The thing about Wooyoung was that his abilities weren’t exactly settled in yet. His aunts and uncles always looked down upon him for that. It annoyed Yeosang to no end. Arin waved at him and stepped onto the bank. 

“You want to join our little getaway?” She asked him. Wooyoung shook his head.

“I’m actually here to get you two. Father wants to speak to you.” He replied. Yeosang and his sister groaned. 

“Why?” He asked as he waved his hand, willing the ice crystals to fall off of the fur. Wooyoung shrugged.

“I don’t know. He never tells me.”

“Why is Father still using you as a messenger?” Arin asked, irritated as she grabbed the reins of her pony, Elise. She leaped onto the saddle and situated herself. “He could have gotten anyone to come. You shouldn’t be one.” Wooyoung shrugged again and climbed onto his own horse. Yeosang glanced at him as he went over to Eilia, who looked at him expectantly as he untied the reins from the tree. He hooked his leg over its back and dug his heels into the stirrups. With a tug, he prompted the pony in the direction of home. Arin and Wooyoung followed him with their respective ponies, and as they traced their way back, snow started to fall. Large snowflakes descended from the air and flew past them as they sped up. Yeosang knew that in a few hours, the landscape would be completely shrouded in white. When he finished his talk with Father, everything would be covered, their previous traces erased by the snow.

* * *

By the time they reached the castle, his nanny was already there, handing Yeosang and Arin their robes. Wooyoung stood by the side, watching them in silence.

“Young Master, your father is expecting you.” She said quickly as Yeosang threw off his furry light blue coat and pulled the dark blue robes over his shoulders. Arin wasn’t wearing any coat beforehand, so all she had to do was put the robe on. She was already done when Yeosang was still struggling with the latch-like buttons on his robe.

“C’mon.” She called as she and Wooyoung headed towards the throne room. Yeosang followed after them, his fingers still working the last latch into place. His nanny escorted them down the hall with huge family crests hanging on the walls. The torches behind the crests illuminated the crystal clear snowflakes as if they were glowing from within. They reached a set of huge iron doors, and the guards pulled it open when they saw the royal children.

“In you go.” His nanny said softly as she ushered them in. She gave a bow and left. Yeosang and Arin exchanged a look before they faced their father.

Lord Kang was a figure full of authority. He sat on the throne lined with fur, the highest quality of mink from Arwaa. The dark navy blue robes draped over his body, covered by a armor breastplate in the torso. His hair, signature of the Kang family, was also the same pearly white blond. His eyes, for as long as Yeosang remembered, were always quite stern. Even so, he knew his father could be kind and soft. Those moments were just not very often.

“Yeosang, Arin.” He began slowly. His eyes traveled to Yeosang’s hair. “Have you two been playing out in the snow again?” Yeosang cursed in his mind. If it was any other person, the snow would no doubt have melted by now, but both he and Arin were Kangs. Snow did not just melt on their bodies.

“Yes, Father.” Arin replied, looking up almost defiantly. His father said nothing, but Yeosang felt the snow on his hair fall off. They drop to the ground, littering the ground with tiny white flecks. 

“How have your studies been going, my son?” His father continued. “I heard from Seyong you are doing quite well.”

“I can freeze water faster now.” Yeosang answered, hoping he didn’t sound as petulant as he felt. Honestly, why did he need to practice freezing water out of all things? “And the surface is smooth.” His father nodded and leaned back on his chair.

“Very good. It is basic training. It is important for further development.” His attention then turned to Arin. “How is yours then, Arin?”

“I can create ice spikes now.” She said. Yeosang glanced at his sister, surprised. Arin gave him a smirk. “Aunt Seyong taught me how to make them a few days ago. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it.” Yeosang wondered when he would ever get to that point. Not that he really wanted to create ice spikes in the first place. They were, for the lack of words, quite ugly and dangerous. He looked up at his father, who seemed pleased with the answer. 

“Offence abilities are always appreciated.” He said. “In due time, it would be of use. Practice until then.” Arin nodded. Discussion then went on to other boring subjects, like how well did they know history and all that. Yeosang zoned out, his hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of his robe. He glanced at Wooyoung, who was silent the whole time. He felt a little jealous, because he didn’t need to talk, and he didn’t have training. Wooyoung glanced back, and he gave him a grin. Lord Kang allowed them to leave after a few more questions, and together, they ventured down the hall to the dining room, where the cook was bringing out lunch. Wooyoung gasped in delight at the pie with unknown filling. Yeosang guessed it was probably a pheasant pot pie. Jam of some sort was laid beside a plate of roasted beef. Vegetables were scarce in Eira, especially in the winter. 

“Oh hello, Young Master. Just a few more-” The cook greeted him as she whisked by, a plate of pastries in hand. Arin had already sat herself down in one of the chairs, eagerly digging into the bowl of what looked like mashed potatoes and pouring gravy all over it. Wooyoung grabbed his hand.

“C’mon Sangie! We have to have some before Arin eats everything!” He laughed as he pulled him to the table. Arin made an indignant noise.

“You think I’m a pig, Wooyoung?!”

“Sometimes you are!” 

Yeosang listened to their bickering as he helped himself to a slice of pheasant pie. It was still hot and a little runny inside, and he marveled at the steam pouring out from the cut. Perhaps outside the snowstorm raged on, so strong even he and Arin would get battered, but inside, it was warm and cozy, with his family. For that, he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have new characters :D Don't worry, the rest of Ateez will appear soon. As the tag suggests, this is slow burn. I sometimes struggle with things going too slow, but it'll get faster soon I promise. I also have an update schedule thought out just to keep myself on track. I will be updating on Wednesdays. If you like this story be sure to come by and perhaps leave your thoughts as comments below. Kudos are welcomed and greatly appreciated.


	4. Winter Festival

For the longest time he could remember, there had been the Winter Festival, held where the mountains meet the flat land. It happened every year, and he never quite liked it, having gotten bored of it after the second time.

“I don’t want to wear this. I can’t run!” Seonghwa complained. His mother shushed him and placed a necklace made of twigs around his neck. It was pine,and the needles pricked into his neck. It was scratchy and unpleasant, but he dared not say another word after one look at his mother’s serious expression.

“We have to look our best.” She said softly as she stood up. “Go brush your hair. Then we have to go.” He did what he was told and went into his room. He picked up the bone comb and ran it through his then long and unruly hair, struggling to make it look shiny like his mother always managed to little success. He skipped out of the room and went to his mother, who took one look at his hair and chuckled.

“We would have to fix that.” He was once again led back into his room, and his mother took over. The comb slid smoothly through the strands like magic, unlike the way he had to force it down his locks. In a few seconds, he was deemed ready. His mother took his hand and led him out into the streets. The town was filled with darkly dressed men and women, including kids. He waved at the son of the fur maker, who waved back. He was in a coat that looked even heavier than his, and Seonghwa pitied him. The people flowed towards the huge open carriages awaiting for the residents of the town, and his mother gripped his hand tightly as they stood with the others. Soon, it was their turn. Seonghwa stepped onto the wooden surface, and in a few minutes, the carriage bumped along, heading toward the festival site. He looked out towards the mountains, capped with snow. The wool coat on his body felt scratchy, but at least it kept him warm.

They soon arrived. Seonghwa looked around at the Blagdenians, who were dressed with significantly less fur. It made sense, because it didn’t feel as cold anymore. They weren’t in the coldest parts of Valkyria anymore. His mother pulled him with her as they got off the cart. The crowd went to stand in front of the Grand Pyre, which would be lit in a few hours. It was always his favorite part, the fire. It was the rare moment of warmth he would feel throughout the ceremony. Now, the pyre looked like a simple pile of branches, stacked to an astonishing height. It would have to be hours before the fire would be lit. He rolled on the balls of his feet, biting his lip in impatience. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a boy that looked different than the rest. Unlike all the kids, he was in a rather light coat with fur trimmings around the hem. Seonghwa looked around. No one seemed to care about his presence, even though he looked so weird and out of place. The boy’s eyes pierced into his when their eyes met.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” His mother replied, looking down at him as her other hand gripped her coat together tighter to ward off the cold. He looked up at her and pointed in the direction of the boy.

“Why is he wearing so little?”

“Who?” He turned around to look, but when he did, he realized the boy was gone. His mother smiled tightly at him and looked up at the pyre again. He huffed in frustration as he fidgeted, hoping the ceremony would just start already. Finally, the dancers entered the square, decked out in a variety of furs and dangling beads. They held torches in their hands as they lined up before the pyre and started the choreography. He yawned and looked away. The dance was the same every year. Even the next part, when another group would enter with crates suspended with ropes from the carrying poles, was more appealing to him. The dancers spun around, the ornate jewelry flying out with their movements, the flames leaving behind a trail of fiery red as the women whirled them in accordance to the drums.

“Hey, what are they doing?” A voice sounded beside him. He turned and saw the boy he saw earlier standing closely behind him, his eyes wide as he watched the twirling women. Up close, Seonghwa realized that the boy’s coat was merely a coverup for what was underneath: the garments below were decked out in luxurious decorations. Tiny jewels sparkled as dapples of lights from the flames shone upon them, sunken into the plush velvety fabric. Strands of gold and silver ran down the expanse of the boy’s shirt front, shimmering beautifully against the decadent purple.

“They’re dancing the ceremony dance.” He whispered, glancing over at his mother, who was paying close attention to the flaming dancers. She seemed entranced.

“Well, what comes after this?” The boy asked excitedly. Seonghwa frowned in confusion.

“Well a group of men come in with the large wooden boxes, of course.” He replied. “It’s the same every year.”

“What’s in the box then?” The boy pressed on. Now it was Seonghwa’s turn to feel inadequate. He did not know what was in the box. He never thought to ask. “Where do the boxes go?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only seen them get behind the pyre.” He whispered back. The boy looked very much unsatisfied. He pouted and suddenly grabbed his hand. Seonghwa yanked back in shock. “What?!”

“Let’s go sneak over.”

“No, Mother wouldn’t want me to- ” The boy didn’t let him finish, as he pulled him away with more force than he thought he had. Seonghwa’s yelp was silenced as a hand came up to cover his mouth. Together, they filtered through the crowd, using their height to their advantage. “What if Mother finds out?”

“Don’t worry.” The boy replied. Seonghwa turned, and this was the first good look he took of the boy. He had dark brown hair, slicked and styled nicely, as well as earrings hanging down his earlobes, shimmering in shades of purple and black. Maybe it was the obsidian rock or black iron? Seonghwa knew of a few mines in Valkyrian lands. His eyes were shining, with a mischievous and excited light. “I’ll make sure you’ll be okay.” 

“Who are you anyway?” Seonghwa asked. The boy grinned.

“I am Hongjoong. What’s your name?”

“Seonghwa.”

“Well then.” Hongjoong gripped his hand tighter as they ran towards the pyre. “Let’s go explore those boxes!” Seonghwa wanted to shake the hand away, but somehow, he didn’t. Perhaps there was something so enticing about the unknown that spurred him on. The crowd was less packed when they got to the bottom of the pyre. A cave was on a slightly elevated plane. It was filled with twigs, as expected if it was supposed to be ignited. Hongjoong jumped up, and Seonghwa followed. The boy dragged him into the twig cave, and there they stood, watching the performance while hidden in the pile of wood. The men were hauling the boxes on their shoulders, hoisting them on horizontal poles laid on their shoulders. Seonghwa and Hongjoong ducked down just as the first group of men arrived. They hurled the boxes into the little twig cave, followed by another. The boys waited until the men finished thrusting the boxes inside. Eagerly, Hongjoong got up. 

“Well, let’s see!” There were tweed ropes tying the boxes shut, and Hongjoong picked at them with his fingers. Seonghwa watched intently in fascinated awe as Hongjoong cursed and groaned. Finally, fed up, the boy took out a pocket knife and sliced through the ropes. 

“Nice.” Seonghwa came over to Hongjoong’s side, and together, they pushed the lid open. Anxiously, they peered in. 

It was dark in the box, especially when they were under the pile of wood. Seonghwa squinted, and he made out a form, wrapped in what seemed to be a cotton wrap. He reached forward and unraveled it. His fingers grazed against something soft, yet stiff. Something… quite cold and still, but… flesh-like? His eyes widened, and he screamed as he fell backward onto the floor. Hongjoong whipped around, his eyes filled with terror.

“Seonghwa, that can’t be…” He rushed over to the other box and opened them, and through his reactions, Seonghwa could already guess what he saw. Trembling, he stood up and stared down at the object properly. It wasn’t an object, it was something much more sinister. 

It was a body.

Seonghwa must have touched its face. He staggered back, trying not to vomit. He had seen glimpses of the bottom part, and there had been little specks of red. He forced himself to look down again, and this time he saw why.

The body had a gash directly across his chest. It must have been the wound that killed him. He felt Hongjoong bump against him, his breath erratic and coming out in gasps.

“They’re coffins.” He whispered, his voice shaking. Seonghwa pressed against the boy, scared out of his wits. “These men… they’re… they’re…” They stood there, frozen in fear as their eyes lingered on the dozens of boxes all around them. Suddenly, Seonghwa felt heat. He frowned. Heat? He looked around, and saw something bright on one of the twigs. It seemed to be sparking, and in a few moments, more twigs became bright, colored red and orange. The scent of smoke filled his nostrils. 

“Hongjoong!” He cried out. The boy must have figured it out as well. “The pyre!”

“They’re burning it!” Hongjoong gripped his arm tightly as they watched the cave of twigs starting to ignite. The branches were crumbling inwards, having been reduced to ashes. That shocked him back, and with all his might, he body slammed Hongjoong backwards. A thin layer of twigs had been used to cover the entrance, and with the amount of force he used, it crumbled down. They burst out the back and hurtled toward the ground. Seonghwa’s body slammed onto the hard earth, knocking the wind out of him. Hongjoong lay beside him, panting. His eyes were wide, and they shimmered as they reflected the flames behind them, the pyre now blazing to life. Seonghwa turned his head and watched as the fire engulfed the cave, along with everything inside it. The boxes… no. The coffins. 

“The fire had been lit! Now, ” A man’s voice shouted as the crowd cheered. “We honor those who have sacrificed themselves to the winter devils! May their souls rest in peace in the afterlife!” Seonghwa looked back at Hongjoong, who still looked stunned. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. 

“Hongjoong?” He called anxiously. The boy’s eyes blinked, and they finally refocused. Slowly, he picked himself up from the ground.

“Do you think…” Hongjoong’s voice was small as his eyes continued to focus on the burning pyre. “That those… are the bodies of the soldiers protecting the border?” Seonghwa looked down. 

“Probably. One had a pretty bad gash across his chest.” He replied. Hongjoong finally turned to look at him, and his eyes were filled with sadness. 

“Would there be a day when there will no longer be bodies to burn?” He asked. Seonghwa blinked. Would there? It was beyond him. He didn’t even live close to the borders, never even saw those soldiers. Before today, he didn’t even know this was what the Winter Festival was about.

“I don’t know.” He murmured, his voice lost in the crackles of the fire, as they watched the smoke and ashes rise into the sky and scatter among the wind, gone forever.

* * *

He didn’t even know how he returned to his mother’s side. His mother’s scoldings were lost to him, even as she tugged his hand harshly, pulling him onto the open carriage. On his way home, he wondered where Hongjoong went. He couldn’t even be mad at the fact that he didn’t keep his promise of getting him out of trouble. All his mind could supply him was the flesh-like texture his fingers felt, and the lifeless soldier who lay in the cramped wooden box, burned to ashes and dispersing in the wind. He nearly turned into ashes himself, even though he wasn’t even in a box. He looked out at the landscape, and realized it was snowing. Snowflakes fluttered onto his fur coat, as well as his twig necklace, like the gray ashes he saw.

_Would there be a day when there will no longer be bodies to burn?_

Seonghwa hoped so. If he ever got the chance, he would do whatever it took to make that a reality. He remembered Hongjoong’s sad eyes. If he could wipe away the sadness and bring back the mischief in them, he would.

If he ever met Hongjoong again, he would make sure that look was gone from his eyes, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong and Seonghwa have appeared! There's also someone else, but he's not named yet. Can you guess who he is? Just a reminder, Seonghwa is Valkyrian, and Hongjoong is Blagdenian. We have moved away from Eira for one chapter, and will be returning shortly. I'm sorry characters come out so slow. I'm just not the fastest at developing stories. I need so much exposition lol.


	5. King's Honor

It happened on the day everything seemed fine.

Advisor Nam had come to Yeosang and Arin after their training and classes, and they were having a great time chatting and having some baked pastries from the kitchen with some tea as they waited for Wooyoung, who had his own classes.

“How have your studies been, young master?” Advisor Nam asked kindly. “I heard you can freeze things even faster now.” Yeosang glanced at the old man. Yes he did, but it didn’t matter to him.

“I can crystalize things a lot better now.” He replied instead as he made an ice pattern on the table, emphasizing the curls and twirls. Advisor Nam gazed in wonder.

“It is beautiful, young master, just like your mother.” He exclaimed emphatically. Yeosang beamed. Arin bumped his shoulder playfully and added some more embellishments to his improvised pattern. 

“ Sangie finally catching up?” She teased, and Yeosang pouted. He would never catch up completely to his sister would he? She was already making offense oriented ice spikes. When would he get to do that? Aunt Seyong was still teaching him how to freeze water even better. Why was life so unfair? “Also, where is Wooyoung? He said he would be here soon.”

“I think the boy is still having his sparring.” Advisor Nam said as he poured Yeosang another cup of tea and handed him a pastry. Ah that’s right. Wooyoung had fighting lessons. Yeosang didn’t like fighting all that much; it was more Arin’s cup of tea. Still, he felt a little jealous. Surely it was much more fun than touching a bowl of water until it hardened? Arin laughed and recounted how she sparred with Wooyoung last time, and how she pounded him into the dirt. Yeosang giggled: he was sure Arin cheated by using her powers. Suddenly, the door burst open, and a guard ran in, with Wooyoung by his side.

“Advisor Nam! The Valkyrians have invaded the border!” Advisor Nam stood up abruptly, his face slack in shock. Arin jumped up beside him, her eyes blazing, while Yeosang froze in his seat. Wooyoung ran over to him and grabbed his arm, his eyes wide. “The king demands your presence immediately!”

“Oh lord no.” The old man murmured as he reached out for both Arin and Yeosang’s hands. Yeosang looked up at him, uncertain, and the man took his hand first. “At least let me take the young masters to their rooms.”

“Quickly then. The Valkyrians have invaded the Delkos River!” Advisor Nam’s eyes widened, and his grip on Yeosang’s hand became almost unbearable.

“No…” The old man muttered under his breath. Yeosang felt his breath quickening. Arin and his private playground. The Valkyrians were invading it? Why? It was just a serene little river. Why? He turned around, hoping to seek at least some form of comfort from his sister, but he was met with an empty hall. 

“Arin?”

* * *

So many enemies.

So much violence.

So much bloodshed.

Even so, it didn’t matter for him. Nothing did. As long as he kept charging, he would be fine. His comrades were overpowering the enemies. It would be fine. With a quick stab, he finished off an Eiran soldier who lunged at him. The man fell to his knees, collapsing into the freezing river. He glanced at the floating body. Even if the man didn’t die of his wounds, the temperature would get to him. For winter devils, they sure weren’t quite so winter proof. With a quick swipe, he slashed through a line of soldiers, trying his best to keep the Eirans away from the river. Victory was near: the line of defense was being pushed back, and only a few clusters of Eiran soldiers clung to the river, defending it to the death. 

How pathetic. He thought as he stabbed an Eiran soldier who was about to attack his fellow comrade. The Eirans have always been taught violently by us Valkyrians that resisting is futile. Only submission was possible. He looked up, ready to slice the next one open, only to stop in his tracks. A hooded figure stood before him. A delicate hand clutched tightly onto the cloak, wrinkling what looked to be expensive fabric. 

A fellow merchant? Who wandered into the battlefield? He furrowed his eyebrows, hefting his sword ready. With a quick swoosh, the person ripped his cloak back. Underneath were pale blond tresses flowing in the wind. Two blue orbs shone dangerously, framed by long lashes, staring directly into his eyes with unmasked, maniacal aggression. Soft lips, unlike those of a soldier… no, even unlike those of a man. His eyes widened.

“Why is there- ” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, before the entire snow covered floor exploded.

* * *

White.

So white.

That was the only thing he remembered when he slowly came back to consciousness. He sat up, his heart rate spiking up. The last thing he remembered was the very floor he was standing on spraying upwards like something gigantic had popped out of the very snowy earth. With his sword in hand, he looked around. The snow was completely disrupted, no longer a flat surface with countless footsteps. Piles of snow were irregularly spread everywhere, with dead soldiers, both Eiran and Valkyrian, lying all around him. He rushed forward, desperate. He had to find the girl really fast. Something told him that girl was dangerous, even though he wasn’t quite sure what caused that snow to do such a thing.

Is the legend of the winter devils actually true? He thought as he looked around frantically. The Eiran defense line was pushed way further down, the Delkos now in Valkyrian possession. His comrades’ sacrifices were not in vain. 

“Hey!” Someone yelled. He turned, and one of his friends was waving at him. “We’ve secured what we came for! We can go!”

“Where’s the girl?” He yelled back. His friend frowned.

“What girl?”

"The girl with the white hair!"

“I didn’t see a girl! Maybe you were hallucinating from the cold! Now let’s go! We have to gather bodies.” The man was driving a horse-drawn cart, and on it, bodies piled high, already wrapped in shrouds and bound with cord. He lowered his eyes. At least they would get an honorary burial. With a sigh, he went over to his fallen comrade and picked him up under his arm. With his other arm, he hauled the Eiran soldier nearby to the river and dumped him in, watching coldly as the body bobbed up and down, drifting down the river, going to who knows where. Wherever it was, it would be far, far away from them all, away from Valkyrian lands. He tucked another body under his arm and headed for the cart. Once he got on beside the shrouded pile, his friend whipped the horse, and the cart began to go forward. While his friend steered the cart, he got to work with the two bodies. Grabbing hold of two wool cloths, he gently wrapped the dead man, looking away from his face. He tied the leather cord around the shrouded body in a crisscross pattern, as neatly as he could. The least he can do for his fallen comrade was to tie his shroud as nicely as he could, with his rough, weather-worn, battle-scarred hands. He laid it down gently beside the pile and started on the other. Soon, it was done, and he leaned back against the wooden sidebars. The wind blew through his hair, stray snowflakes landing on his face and melting against his skin.

“Wake me up when we get there, alright?” He called. His friend snapped the reins and shouted back.

“Will do!” Even so, he didn’t fall asleep. His memories were too vivid to fall asleep. His fallen comrades, his kills, the blood-covered snow… and the girl. What had she been doing there? She didn’t look to be much older than he was. He was eighteen, perhaps she was fifteen or something? Why had she been there? Her face was beautiful, if he remembered correctly. Why would a pretty girl be in the middle of the battlefield? Was it really a hallucination from the cold? He didn’t know. The cold was never kind to him, so why should it be now? He mauled over it in his mind as the cart sped towards the palace. Feeling a stab of pain up his leg, he looked down. To his surprise, there was a huge patch of frostbite. Thankfully, it didn’t look too bad. He could get help once they reach the castle. The horses were slowing down, which meant they were probably in the city. He looked out over the railing and saw hordes of people waiting by the side. Quickly, he grabbed a piece of cloth and covered the shrouded bodies. 

“Long live the heroes who captured the Delkos!” Ah, so the news had already gotten out. He sighed as he hid under the cloth. He didn’t really want to meet the eyes of those people. There he stayed as the cart rolled into the palace. 

“Hey, get up.” His friend called as the cart came to a start. Slowly, he pushed the cloth off and stood up. His friend grinned at him. “We’re here.” He followed the other as the soldiers convened and was led by the guards into the inner parts of the palace. They passed by palace servants and fellow guards, who congratulated them on their way to their respective jobs. He toned them out. He really wasn’t quite that interested in all the congratulations. Not after the huge bloody battle that had taken place. Soon, they arrived in the throne room, where they stood in neat ranks.

“Heroes of Valkyria.” The man on the throne called out to them. They saluted and knelt. He looked up and saw the prince. Ravn was his name. The boy smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was a friend of his, as well as his brothers’. The prince was never quite the snobby type, and he respected him for it. “You have all seen your part of conflict, and therefore, you shall be promoted to the capitol.” His eyes widened. The capitol? It was considered a huge honor, but… he didn’t want to leave his family. Then again, maybe if he went to the capitol, his life wouldn’t be in as much peril as it was now. The prince was grinning at him again. 

Well, he hoped his family would understand then.

The king started calling out soldiers one by one. He waited silently, watching his surviving comrades stand up one by one to receive a small black iron medal for their decisive victory. It shone against their fur coats, a dark sheen with etched letters of honor. Soon, it was his turn. He was the last in line. The king smiled down at him as he placed the medal around his neck.

“Your service to Valkyria is appreciated, ” The man paused. Perhaps this was the only time he had ever seen the king so up close, and it was probably the only time the king would ever know his name. The advisor whispered in the king’s ear, and the man nodded.

“Song Mingi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, another chapter! Shit just got real. New characters have appeared, and new battles have been fought. I feel like my fics are typically less appealing to people judging by the uh... hits. Maybe it's just not interesting enough, but no matter. I hope someone has been reading and following it. Anyway, as usual, tell me what you think in the comments. Write about your theories as to what would happen, what characters might appear... anything. Even if you're just popping in to say hi, it's also appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Seriously, tell me if this was a bad idea. I won't get mad :')


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